


Nothing Like Homemade

by Wallwalker



Category: Star Ocean: The Second Story
Genre: Comedy, Community: fic_on_demand, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-19
Updated: 2009-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-03 10:09:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wallwalker/pseuds/Wallwalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people are more prone to cooking disasters than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Like Homemade

**Author's Note:**

> Written for akusai @ LJ (journal now deleted) for the [Fic on Demand](http://community.livejournal.com/fic_on_demand) community at LiveJournal.

Ever since Opera had decided that traveling with Claude and his friends was a decent idea, it had been all but impossible to find a chance to sleep in once in a while. If Rena wasn't waking them up at the crack of dawn, something else was going on that made it too hard to sleep.

This morning was no exception. One minute she was asleep in one of the guest beds in Bowman's place, happily dreaming of the bright neon lights of Vectra City; the next thing she knew, she was sitting bolt upright in bed, suddenly and cruelly awake thanks to a series of small explosions somewhere on the floor below. She jumped out of bed and grabbed the robe that Nineh had let her borrow for the night, and took a minute to pick up her gun and prime it for immediate use, just in case.

She stumbled downstairs into the common room, and the smell of smoke nearly overwhelmed her at once; it was strange, not like any other kind of explosive she'd ever smelled before, and it made her gag very slightly. Bowman was already there, doubled over a chair and coughing his lungs out. And Rena was there too, on closer inspection; she was just huddled near the floor, a fold of cloth from her cape pressed over her mouth and nose. Opera had to admit that was pretty smart; the smoke was stinging her nose and her mouth and all three of her eyes.

She didn't have time to worry about it, though. "What's happened? Is everything all right?" she asked, feeling foolish - the entire scene was a mess. Of course it wasn't all right. Still, it was the first thing that had come to mind. She'd really been going to too many dinner parties back at home, she thought bitterly; she should've just asked who the hell had been setting off bombs in the house. Or whatever.

Bowman didn't answer; he was too busy coughing, which was odd, because the man smoked nearly as much as Ern did. Rena glanced up at her briefly and muttered something short and indistinct through her cape. It didn't seem that there was going to be any help for her there; she'd have to take care of things herself, as was often the case.

Then she looked up at the kitchen - and she saw Claude and Celine, just standing there looking dazed, both wearing aprons and hearth mitts. They were carrying a tray between them, full of something black and very unappetizing. It _might_ have been a batch of some sort of bread at one time; Now it bore a very close resemblance to the fragments a lot of tiny spent bombs. Bits of blackened bread were all over the kitchen, and soot was smeared across Claude's cheeks; the stuff had made a total mess of his uniform, and of Celine's dress, in complete defiance of their sooty aprons.

She stared at them for a moment, utterly floored; yes, she had thought she'd heard someone yelling something about cooking, something like "What? That's moving? But bread isn't supposed to shake like that - uh-oh!" The thing was, it had been so odd that she'd figured she'd been dreaming.

Celine stared back at her; Claude stared determinedly at the floor.

After a while, though, Opera had to turn away, so that they wouldn't see her grinning like a fool. At least now she knew that she wasn't the _worst_ cook around. Sure, her attempts at cooking might not be very edible, but she'd never nearly burned down anyone's house while trying to bake biscuits.

\---

It took the five of them almost an hour to clean up the blackened kitchen, and even with all of the windows open the house still stank of smoke when they were done. Fortunately, Nineh was very nice about the whole situation when she came in from opening the shop to see where all of the smoke was coming from, although Opera couldn't help but notice that Bowman's sweet young wife had suddenly developed a slight facial tic.

Then they all changed into clothes that didn't smell quite so much, and trooped off to the University cafe for some breakfast. The biscuits there were a bit stale, but no one was brave enough to complain; after all, they all knew it could have been much worse.


End file.
